


Comfort

by knotted_rose



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI: Miami
Genre: Crossover, First Meetings, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knotted_rose/pseuds/knotted_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because we all need a little comfort, now and then.</p><p>First posted 8 February 2005</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

Greg looked around the beige and pastel hotel room one last time before following Nick out the door. He couldn't believe it. A week, here in Miami, with Nick! Okay, sure, they were on a case that involved some kind of sick fuck torturing and murdering people both in Vegas and Miami. And yeah, it wasn't as if anything would happen between them. Nothing had _ever_ happened between them. Nothing was _going_ to happen between them. But he was damned certain that he was going to try to get his fill of naked-Nick goodness while he was here: dressing and undressing and showering and innocent enough things like that--maybe even spend time watching Nick sleep -- enough to fuel at least another couple of years of fantasies, that was for sure.

Nick had been the same on the flight down, in the car, checking in, as he'd always been. Friendly, unconsciously flirtatious, steady-as-a-rock Nick, while Greg had been practically vibrating out of his seat at the thought of seeing the ocean again. It wasn't _his_ ocean, but it was still endless miles of water, and he really was looking forward to seeing it.

Though the Miami crime lab wasn't too far from their hotel, it was long enough for Greg to start to get nervous. It was the first time he'd worked a case away from their lab. He hadn't been a CSI level one for very long, and luck had played a big hand in his being selected to go. What if he screwed up? Greg started tapping his foot, suddenly wishing that they were starting their trip all over again in Las Vegas.

"It'll be okay, G." The words filtered through his panic, settled onto his skin, warming it slightly.

Greg had never known how Nick always knew. Greg had mused, more than once, about being able to isolate the four-letter DNA combination that gave Nick his telepathy. It might have just been Nick's general personality and his constant assessing of details, but Greg didn't want to attribute it to anything as mundane as that. Nick always knew what was going on, and when it was just the two of them, more often than not said the right thing.

It gave him hope sometimes, that Nick _knew_ about Greg's feelings. At the same time, it filled him with despair -- because chances were Nick did know, and they weren't returned.

They parked in the visitor's lot then walked up wide stone stairs into a darkened reception area.

"Hi there, how ya'll doing?"

Greg shook his head. Nick Stokes at his most charming, with every pretty woman he met. Accent always thicker when he was angling for something.

"We're here to see Horatio Caine," Greg added, before Nick applied any more Nick-grease and tried to get the girl's address and number.

"You're going to have to relax, man," Nick murmured as the girl made the appropriate phone calls.

"He'll be with you shortly."

"Thank you ma'am."

Greg steered Nick away from the desk before he could continue flirting.

"What?" Nick asked, pretending to be confused.

"At least I'm going to _try_ to make a good first impression," Greg retorted.

"And not be caught flirting with the receptionist?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "What ever."

Just then a tall, thin red-haired man walked into the reception area, followed by an extremely attractive blonde and an intense, dark-eyed man.

Nick straightened up as they approached, chest out, automatically falling into parade-stance or some such shit from when he was a cop. Greg had seen it happen again and again, knew it was part of Nick's own defenses, that Nick didn't do it to make Greg seem smaller.

It didn't help that Greg felt diminished every time.

#

If anyone asked Ryan when he started believing in love at first sight, he'd be able to tell them.

3:37 P.M. Tuesday. April 2nd.

He knew, _knew_ , that it wasn't real. It was just a combination of smile and pheromones and eyes (god yes, _eyes_ ) that produced the exact magical combination to unlock everything in Ryan.

Ryan told himself that he probably wouldn't even like the guy. Told himself that the guy was probably a freak -- his streaked brown and golden hair seemed barely tamed. Ryan assured himself that he was going to hate him once he got to know him, that he would drive Ryan crazy with his mess and his music and kind of loud shirts. He was probably homophobic as well, with a special well of hate for bisexuals like Ryan.

3:38 P.M.

His name was Greg. His hand was warm.

His smile was wide and nervous.

Ryan found himself stepping closer as they followed the other CSIs down the hall.

"How was your flight?"

Greg's smile suddenly seemed less nervous. Ryan called himself a fool for caring.

"Good. Long. But we circled in over the ocean before we landed. That was pretty cool. It's been so long since I've seen it."

"Where did you grow up?"

"San Fran-sisco."

Greg practically sang the words, and Ryan couldn't help but grin at his antics.

Then Calleigh said something which made Nick laugh and that drew Greg's eyes away from Ryan. In response, Nick said something to Calleigh which made _her_ laugh.

 

3:39 P.M.

Ryan suddenly knew several things about Greg.

He liked men.

He liked Nick in particular.

Nick and Greg were not in a relationship, in spite of Greg's feelings.

They all stopped outside the lab where Horatio suggested Greg and Ryan start processing what evidence they had so far, while Nick and Calleigh went back to the crime scene.

Greg turned and asked Ryan, "Want to show me your equipment?"

Ryan knew it had nothing to do with him. Greg probably flirted like that with everyone. Or maybe he was trying to make Nick jealous. It didn't matter -- it focused Greg's attention where it belonged, back on Ryan, and gave him a chance to flirt as well.

"I'll show you mine if you promise that someday you'll show me yours," he said in a solemn voice, loud enough for Nick to hear, even though it meant that Calleigh and Horatio probably heard as well.

The grin he got in response made it all worth while.

3:40 P.M.

Ryan knew he'd lost his heart. Probably forever.

#

Ryan turned out to be a great guy. Cute, smart, funny. And Greg enjoyed working with him, even if he was a little fussy about cleaning the lab equipment. Before Nick got all focused and freaked out about the case (when they found the next victim was a kid) they even managed to go out to eat at this place that looked like a dive but served the most fantastic Cuban food.

Greg tried not to notice, or be bothered by, Nick's flirting with Calleigh. That was just Nick, how he acted around all beautiful women. Plus, they just seemed to hit it off.

Kind of like how he and Ryan seemed to hit it off. Of course he assumed Ryan was attracted to him -- many people were. And so what if it meant that he and Ryan flirted a little more outrageously as a result? There wasn't any harm in it, right? Ryan was just a great guy. Greg liked him a lot, and kind of wished he had a friend like him in Las Vegas.

Then came that afternoon in the lab, when the pair of them were, okay, maybe goofing off a little. Ryan had been demonstrating some of the holds he'd learned when he was a cop, and after he'd let Greg go, his collar had been skewed, sticking out funny from his lab coat. Greg had reached up to adjust it, fingers brushing against the warm skin of Ryan's neck, when Nick had come in.

"Am I disturbing something?"

Ryan hadn't started or turned when Nick made his appearance. Greg decided not to either. Instead, he let his hand remain where it was, pulling down on Ryan's collar, his eyes never leaving Ryan's as he answered, "No. You're not disturbing anything at all."

Then they both turned as one to face Nick, who seemed flush. Greg figured it was the heat, but secretly hoped he was blushing.

"So whatcha got for us?" he asked.

Nick handed the latest blood sample to Greg, glared at Ryan, then took off, out of the lab like a shot.

Ryan raised one eyebrow at Greg, as if asking what that was all about. Greg just shrugged. Operation "Get Nick Jealous" had never worked in the past, and so couldn't be working now. He'd probably just had a run-in with Calleigh or Horatio or something.

Still, before he left the lab that night (or early morning, but who was really counting) he insisted that he and Ryan exchange cell phone and home numbers. Just in case. You never knew.

And besides -- Ryan was a great guy. Maybe they'd be in touch or something after Greg went back to Vegas.

#

Greg didn't understand why he was sitting with Nick in the bar next to the hotel. Nick wasn't saying a word to him, just pouring shots down his throat and getting red, well, redder, by the minute. Greg finished the beer he'd been nursing and told Nick it was time to crash.

"Not yet," Nick said, grabbing on to Greg's arm as he started to stand up.

"What is _up_ with you?" Greg asked, going from concerned to pissed. He shook his arm, but Nick wasn't letting go. "You going to give that back anytime soon?" he said, looking pointedly to where Nick's grip was tightening almost to the point of pain and then back up at Nick.

Nick, who was staring at him with a flushed face and black, fathomless eyes.

After another timeless while of staring, Nick finally stood and said, "Yeah. Let's go. Back to the room."

Nick didn't seem interested in letting go of Greg's arm. Now, while Greg had fantasized about Nick grabbing him sometime, dragging him off to a broom closet or an empty office and having his way with him, this was _not_ how it was supposed to go. Nick wasn't supposed to be almost growling with anger. He wasn't supposed to be pulling an unwilling Greg. He was supposed to have said something, _anything,_ to give Greg some kind of indication as to what he was thinking.

Caveman-Nicky, in reality, left a lot to be desired.

When they got to the hotel room, Nick still didn't say anything. He pulled Greg in, locked the door, pushed Greg so he was sitting on one of the beds, then started pacing.

"Nick--you going to tell me what's wrong sometime this century?"

When Nick didn't respond, when all he did was glare at Greg and continue to pace, Greg stood back up.

"Fine. I'm just going to let you do your enactment of 'Clan of the Cave Bears' all on your own."

Nick stopped when Greg pulled out his cell phone.

"Not him." The words came out as more growl than anything else.

Greg stopped scrolling through numbers, looking for Ryan's.

"Excuse me?"

Nick stood still in front of Greg, vibrating, as if the wildness whipping his soul was barely contained. His hands were clenching into fists, then unclenching and clenching again.

"Not him."

"What the fuck do you care?" Greg asked, seriously pissed. So he and Ryan were friends. So what? Why the hell did it matter to Nick all of a sudden?

"Greg--" Nick reached out, plucked the phone out of Greg's hand, and tossed it on the bed. He stood close enough that Greg could smell the whiskey on his breath, as well as feel the heat radiating off his skin. Then Nick's hands were on him again, grabbing his biceps, burning his skin.

They stared for a moment, eyes locked, muscles frozen.

Nick broke the tableau, looking down, his hands loosening their death grip and moving up and down Greg's arms.

Softly.

Caressing Greg's bare forearms.

"It's just--he's nice and--he digs you, man."

"So?" Greg challenged.

Nick glanced up. "So do I." The words came out in a whispered tone, as if they were too sacred to say.

"You sure have an odd way of showing it," Greg said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Nick's eyes were deep and terrible, devouring Greg's soul. It was impossible to look away. Greg couldn't believe that Nick had just said what he'd said. That Nick knew what he was saying.

That Nick would continue saying that kind of thing.

Nick looked down again, watching his hands touching Greg, as if he couldn't believe he was actually doing it. He slowly raised his hands to the tops of Greg's shoulders and started massaging the muscles there. Greg finally let himself touch in return, bringing his trembling hands up to Nick's waist, resting them just above Nick's hips -- not doing anything, barely holding on, his heart pounding as hard as if he'd just spent the last two hours dancing.

Maybe he couldn't believe this was happening either.

After another moment, Nick dragged his gaze away from his hands and looked in Greg's eyes again.

"I . . . we can't . . . "

"Yeah, we can," Greg said, taking a step closer, tugging Nick closer. Though he might be petrified about what was going on, he wasn't about to let go yet.

"No." Nick stepped back before he let go, as if his hands hadn't wanted to obey.

"Fine." Greg turned, reached down, and picked up his phone.

"No," Nick repeated, his voice hoarse. This time he grabbed Greg and didn't stop -- just pulled the other man to him and smashed his mouth down against his.

The kiss was brutal -- as if Nick was trying to force himself through Greg's skin -- all teeth and tongue. Greg didn't mind in the least. Nick wrapped himself around Greg, bringing their bodies flush together, hands grabbing back and neck and ass, sweeping up and down, restless and relentless. Greg just moaned and tried to bring them even closer together, his own hands desperate, delving under Nick's shirt to find overheated skin. It thrilled him that Nick was just as hard as he was, and he pushed again, rubbing against the other man, wanting to get closer still.

Then Nick bit down a little too hard on the edge of Greg's mouth. Greg couldn't help it. He winced.

As if prodded by an electric wire, Nick jumped back "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

When Greg tried to step close again, Nick held his hands up, keeping Greg away.

"We can't _do_ this," Nick said through gritted teeth. "I . . . I gotta go."

With that, Nick turned and ran out the door.

Greg stood, stunned, unable to move for long, countless minutes.

What the _fuck_ had just happened?

His hands were shaking when he reached for his phone. _Third time's the charm_ he told himself as he finally found Ryan's number, trying to distract himself, not letting himself touch his bruised lips, or remember Nick's heat, or how Nick had just left.

#

Ryan opened the door quickly when he heard Greg's knock. "Jesus," he said when he saw Greg. Without thinking he pulled the other man in and brought him to the kitchen, flipping on the overhead light so he could see everything better.

Greg was trembling. There was a bruise on the side of his mouth, his shirt was half untucked, and his hair was more wild than ever.

"Did he hit you?" Ryan asked, not caring how low or mean his voice sounded. They'd never actually talked about Nick, about Greg's attraction or Nick's denial, but Ryan knew it couldn't be anyone else.

"No!" Greg seemed startled. "No," he repeated, bringing shaking fingers up to his mouth. "He kissed me."

Ryan nodded and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew what it probably looked like to Greg, but he had to. The desire to grab Greg, and either hold him or shake him, was too great for Ryan.

"So, ah, how'd you know?" Greg asked, not meeting Ryan's eye.

Ryan didn't say anything.

"That obvious, huh?" Greg asked with a little smile, finally looking up.

"What are you going to do now?" Ryan hated himself for asking, hating how harsh his voice sounded. But he couldn't help it. Nick had _hurt_ Greg. And if Ryan had anything to say about it, Nick was going to be hurting soon too.

"Do?" Greg pulled his hands through his hair, making more of a bird's nest out of it. "What the fuck can I do?" He looked around the apartment, then back at Ryan. "Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea."

"Stay," Ryan said, automatically, without thinking. He reached out a hand to Greg, letting himself touch the other man, absently caressing his arm. Greg shivered, and Ryan really wanted to see Greg do that again -- shiver with passion, with hunger. "Please," Ryan added, making his tone nice and gentle. Greg nodded, then let Ryan lead him over to the couch.

"Can I get you anything?" Ryan asked. "Beer? Water? Tequila?" At Greg's half-smile, he continued. "I make a mean margarita. Or we can do shots."

"Water would be fine."

Ryan gave the other man a moment to himself while he collected two glasses of ice and filled them from the pitcher of filtered water in the refrigerator. That he was also giving himself a little time barely counted. It wouldn't be enough, not with Greg right there in his apartment. Not with Greg shaking and needy and already looking half-fucked.

Greg had kicked off his shoes by the time Ryan got back, and now sat stretched out with his feet on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

"Hey," Ryan said as he sat down on the other end of the couch, placing Greg's glass in easy reach.

"Hey," Greg replied, opening his eyes and looking up.

A moment of silence stretched between them.

"You want to talk about it?" Ryan finally asked. "Or you want to not talk about it?"

After taking a sip of water, Greg said quietly, "I don't know."

"How did it start?" Ryan asked. He didn't really want to hear about it, but he thought Greg needed to talk. Ryan had learned in his time with the other man that Greg liked to talk. A lot.

"Over you, actually."

"What?" That was the last thing that Ryan had expected to hear.

"Nick was acting all freaky-deaky. Complete with Neanderthal growl. So I figured I'd just leave him to enact his own "Quest for Fire" scene and started to call you. That's when . . . that's when he said not you."

"Not me?" Ryan asked.

"He said . . . he said you were into me. That's why he didn't want me to come here."

Now Ryan looked down at his own glass of water, unable to meet Greg's eye, _really_ not wanting to hear anymore.

"So do you?" The voice that asked him was so young -- cracking and vulnerable. "Do you like me?"

Now or never.

Ryan made himself look up, made one arm move up so it rested against the back of the couch, fingers stretched toward Greg.

"Yes."

Greg nodded, finding his own water glass fascinating. "I kind of thought so. But we're only here for a short while, and--"

"It's okay," Ryan said, interrupting.

"I like you too, you know," Greg said, quietly.

"But Nick--"

"Nick's the Holy Grail who's never going to get his head unstuck from his homophobic Texan ass long enough to see when a good thing's around." Greg let out his breath with a _whoosh_ , his head falling back. Still staring up at the ceiling he raised one hand, plopped it down onto the back of the couch, on top of Ryan's hand.

Their fingers laced together automatically.

Ryan felt as if his heart were trying to escape his chest, trying to bang itself over to Greg. He let his thumb sweep across the other man's, reveling in the soft skin.

"Do you," Ryan made himself stop, cleared his throat. "Do you want to stay here the rest of the night?"

"I don't . . . I don't--"

"Shhh," Ryan said, hitching himself closer to Greg. "You just--it's just--comfort. Just for the night. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Just stay. Please."

Greg looked at Ryan finally, his own thumb now caressing the other man's hand, eyes dark, sad.

Hopeful.

"Yeah," Greg said, tugging on Ryan's hand, pulling the other man to him.

#

Greg could have called himself a slut, a whore, could have called himself all sorts of unkind things, but at the moment, he just didn't care.

He was kissing Ryan. And Ryan was a pretty amazing kisser.

This was the antithesis of his encounter with Nick. Ryan was soft lips and gentle hands and exploring, not denying, the man he was with.

The heat was the same though.

Ryan had moved them almost immediately from the living room to the bedroom, stripping Greg efficiently, then out of his own clothes. He didn't seem to have any doubts or concerns once Greg had said yes. Greg knew that Ryan could seem a little shy sometimes, but he'd also talked about the clubs he'd been to, the scenes he'd been a part of, and knew that the shyness wasn't the full story.

Now they lay on their sides, facing each other, softly kissing, legs intertwined, hands caressing and seeking hot spots and sore spots and spots that needed rubbing.

It was -- comfort.

But Greg wanted more. Wanted the images of Nick burned out of him mind. Wanted Ryan burned into his skin.

He pulled Ryan closer then rolled them, bring Ryan more fully on top, spreading his legs so Ryan could settle easily between them. Then started rocking his hips, bringing their cocks in line with each other.

Ryan kissed him deeper, rocking back a little harder, his hands grasping tighter.

"What do you want?" Ryan asked, dragging himself up and away after a moment.

"You."

Ryan ground down on him, pushing the breath out of Greg. But he didn't come down for another kiss. He seemed to be waiting.

"Want you in me," Greg finally managed to get out, his heartbeat already accelerating with desire.

Now, finally, Ryan came close enough for kissing. Greg clung to him, hungry, desperate to feel.

"You sure?" Ryan asked, still sliding against him.

It was the first time Ryan had hesitated, which made Greg pause. What was he asking the other man to do?

Then he got it. Ryan was a great guy, and Ryan liked him. A lot. And was he being as big an asshole as Nick by using him?

He must have said something out loud, because Ryan said, "No. Not an asshole. Just comfort. Sometimes -- sometimes I need it too."

They stared at each other, the light from the streetlight outside spilling over the bed, marking their faces with shadows.

And Greg knew he might hate himself in the morning, but he hated how he felt even more right then, so he simply said, "Yes." Then he pulled Ryan to him and kissed him again, Ryan kissing back, tongue moving in the same rhythm as his body.

It didn't take long for Ryan to get Greg prepared, the unexpected fullness of fingers transmuting quickly to needing more. Ryan pulled at Greg's hip, trying to get him to turn over, but Greg wouldn't. Refused to move.

"Want to see you. Want to know it's _you_ ," he said, knowing it was the right thing to do, for him, to help him chase away the ghost who lay on the bed with them.

Ryan caught his breath at that, and Greg knew it was the right thing for Ryan too.

#

Ryan could enumerate the physical sensations of pushing into Greg. The tight fit. The warmth. The hissing sigh that escaped from Greg as he slid in. His own panting breaths. The prickling of sweat in the small of his back. The sweet scent of Greg.

Emotionally, though, Ryan was trapped in a maelstrom, each feeling surfacing then whirling away to make room for the next. Content, happy, damn near ecstatic to be here, where he'd longed to be, with Greg. In Greg. Sad, that it had to be like this -- just comfort, nothing else. Determined to erase Nick. Jealous of Nick's place in Greg's heart. Hopeful that this wasn't the only time Ryan was there. Despondent that it probably was.

And determined that if this was going to be the only time, he was going to make it unforgettable. Even if it took every iota of his self-control.

He started slowly, just rocking, barely moving in and out. As Greg loosened further, Ryan let his thrusts grow longer, deeper, ruthlessly suppressing his body's urge to rut, counting silently, then changing speeds abruptly, jack-hammering into Greg for ten rough strokes.

When he reached the end of his count, he slammed his way deep inside Greg. Then he stopped, his cock twitching. He kissed Greg for a while, letting his tongue mimic what his body longed to do, all to that silent count in his head.

Then he started again, long, sure thrusts, angling his hips, until Greg was twitching and Ryan was certain he was nailing Greg's prostrate every time. The noises Greg made pulled at his self-control, but it wasn't time yet. He sped up again, going fast and hard, Greg's body growing tighter around his, his breath hitching.

So of course it was time to stop and hold himself still, and kiss, mouth across the sweat dotting Greg's forehead, down along the line of his jaw.

Greg moaned as Ryan pulled back to look at him. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" he asked, his eyes dazed.

"At least you'll die happy," Ryan said as he started the cycle again.

"Oh, god, Ryan, please," Greg said, twitching as Ryan found that spot again.

"Faster?" Ryan asked, even as he bit down on his own tongue, forcing himself to keep his strokes measured, even, and slow. It was so hard to keep up this pace, harder than it had ever been before. But the way Greg was reacting made it all worth it. Even if that the inside of Ryan's mouth was going to be raw from him biting it, giving himself pain so he could maintain control.

"Please, please, please."

Ryan let go with his body, loosened his control for a while, let himself pound as he longed to.

Then he made himself stop again.

He repeated his cycle, pushing Greg closer and closer to orgasm, then stopping, resting, and repeating, until Greg was moaning almost non-stop and Ryan knew he couldn't last much longer.

He switched at that point, going from stop to full-on banging, then stopping for just a couple of seconds and starting again, pleased that it didn't take long before it seemed that Greg could no longer form words. Ryan pushed himself up on one hand, reaching down to pull at Greg's cock. Greg shuddered when Ryan touched it, and Ryan had to stop again for a moment or he would have come himself. When he started again, he had to clear his throat before he could speak.

"Going to come, Greg?" Ryan had never heard his voice sound so rough. "Come for me? Let me see you, babe. Let me feel you. Come for me Greg. Please."

Greg's eyes seemed to focus for a moment. He looked at Ryan, brought one hand up and ran the back of it along Ryan's cheek, his mouth working, trying to say something. All he managed was one word: "Ryan." Then he closed his eyes, threw his head back and came, his muscles constricting almost painfully around Ryan's cock. Ryan held on, rode through Greg's orgasm, needing to see it, to watch the beauty that was Greg in this unguarded moment, before he pushed himself over the edge, feeling the heat rising up the backs of his calves and coalesce in the center of his spine before shooting out his cock, a blazing trail of white fireworks going off behind his eyes.

Ryan came back to himself to find Greg petting him, hands soft and gentle on his back, light kisses tickling his jaw.

"Hey," he said. It was hard to open his eyes, hard to concentrate on anything but sleep.

"Hey," Greg responded.

Ryan shifted to his side, pulling out of Greg, his body feeling both sated and ancient. Greg helped him pull off the condom, tied it off, then tugged at Ryan until he came close enough for a long kiss.

"Stay," Ryan said. Lifting his hand took all the energy he had, but he managed, somehow, to get his arm across Greg's chest.

"Yeah," Greg said.

And Ryan fell asleep, content. Comforted.

#

Though Ryan had graciously offered to loan Greg a shirt, he decided it would be better if he got his own stuff.

Besides, he'd rather deal with Nick outside the crime lab, if it came to that. So after some very sweet morning kisses, Greg made his way back to the hotel.

The room looked exactly the same as it had the night before -- neither bed had been slept in. Nick was there, though, sitting on Greg's bed, also dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing the day before.

He didn't look up when Greg came in, didn't give any kind of greeting.

Fine. Two could play at that game. Greg stalked over to the drawers that held his clothes and yanked them open, grabbed boxers and shirt, before turning and heading for the bathroom.

"Did you go to him?" Nick asked, his voice low and broken.

Greg stopped and looked over his shoulder toward Nick. Nick, who still wasn't looking up.

"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you're just looking out for me. But really? It's none of your business."

Nick moved faster than Greg expected. He was suddenly at Greg's back, breath moving against Greg's neck, arms sliding around Greg's waist.

"What if I want to make it my business?" Nick asked, ghosting kisses up behind his ear.

No, this was _not_ happening to Greg. Operation "Get Nick Jealous" had actually worked. But somehow, the results weren't really what he wanted.

"So what happens when we go back?" _And Ryan was no longer in the picture?_ he didn't add.

Nick stiffened abruptly, and not in that fun way which would lead to more horizontal boogie.

With a sigh, Greg pulled away from Nick. "Then we're not doing this," he said.

Nick didn't stop Greg as he walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Greg leaned on the door for a moment, trying to get his breath back.

He'd just turned Nick down. _Nick._ The god of most of his daydreams and okay, almost all of his night fantasies. But he wasn't just going to be a toy, there for a quick fuck when no one else was around. Just a prize to be coveted, not treasured. He wanted, _needed_ , more.

Yet, was he any better? What had he just done with Ryan?

Greg knew there was a difference. He always gave away his heart quickly, easily, like a bad penny. The ground under his feet was already slippery. It wouldn't take much of a push, maybe only a whisper of a touch, and he would be falling for Ryan. Hard. But he couldn't. Their situation was impossible. And just because Ryan could easily mean so much to him didn't mean he still didn't care for Nick. Want Nick. Long for Nick.

With another sigh, Greg pushed himself up and started the water in the shower. He didn't lock the door, and later, couldn't honestly say if he'd forgotten on purpose or not.

But Greg hadn't expected Nick to come into the bathroom after he'd stepped under the spray.

"What--what?" Greg sputtered as Nick pulled back the curtain.

Nick. Fully naked Nick. Stepping into the shower with him.

"Shhhh. G. Come on. It's okay man," Nick said, his hands stroking down Greg's arms. "Just, let me. Okay? I don't know what we're going to do back in Vegas. But now, can't it just be, you know, comfort? Does it have to be anything else?"

Comfort. Like what Ryan had given him.

So Greg let Nick pull him forward, let his head be guided down until his forehead rested on Nick's collarbone. Sighed and slipped his own arms around Nick's waist as strong fingers massaged his skull and rubbed shampoo through his hair. Moaned quietly as those fingers slipped down and started working on the knots in his shoulders, loosening the muscles in his upper back.

Greg kept hold of some sanity by only allowing those three points of contact; his forehead and his forearms. He didn't let his body rest against Nick's, no matter how much he longed to for the other man's heat. No matter how much he wanted to touch, lick, rub and thrust.

But that sanity was quickly shredded after Nick rinsed him off, then turned him, so that his back was flush up against Nick's chest. So he could no longer deny Nick's, ah, considerable interest, long and hard against his back. And when Nick finished soaping and cleaning his chest and dropped his hands to Greg's own needy cock, Greg could no longer deny his own interest either.

He still made one last effort. "Nick," he said, pushing against Nick's arms, trying to dislodge them.

"Shhhh," was all the response he got. "Let me. Please."

Greg was only human. And a guy. Who was he to deny a large warm hand wrapped around his cock and stroking. The water from the shower sprayed across his chest, mingling with his sweat, hiding the way he was already panting. Nick sucked at his neck and held him tight with one arm around his waist, alternating between caressing his chest and flicking his nipples. Greg let his head loll back and tried to catch his breath in the steaming air.

As Nick started pushing against him, rubbing his erection against the crack of Greg's ass, Greg felt the beginning of his orgasm, starting from his skin and crawling inward, spiraling through the heat and pushing into muscle, into bone, sparkling lights shooting through up his thighs, down his spine, pulsing and pulsing out his cock.

He might have felt a slight sting against his neck as he came.

As he was coming down he did feel the warm spurt of come against his back, heard Nick's quiet groan, felt an extra weight as Nick let his head rest against Greg's.

Then finally, _finally,_ came the kisses Greg had been craving, soft and warm and dare he say, loving? Kisses that warmed him more than the water splashing down on his back. Kisses that sent tingles through his chest and down his gut. Kisses that weakened his knees more than his orgasm had.

Finally, when Greg was afraid his pruny fingers would never lose their wrinkles, Nick stepped out and handed Greg a towel. They weren't avoiding each other's eyes, Greg assured himself. They just weren't 100% certain what to say. But it didn't matter -- it was all going to work out.

As Greg started considering their breakfast options, and just what else he could talk Nick into before they left, the phone rang.

They had a suspect and they needed to get to the station if they wanted in on the interview. Greg dried off and dressed quickly, noticing again that something along his neck hurt, but not taking the time to look.

Then they were out the door, cruising in, sharing smiles and Greg couldn't even bitch when Nick found something twangy on the radio.

#

Ryan didn't let his fury show in his face or his stance. He didn't pace or clench his fists or even stop smiling. Probably no one, not even those close to him, would have seen his anger. But he was livid.

When Greg came and found him in the lab, it took everything Ryan had to say hello and to listen to Greg, who was practically bouncing off the walls. They'd found a suspect, and he was going to lead them to his partner.

It was only when Greg came up close, when Greg put his arm across Ryan's shoulder and made a flirtatious suggestion about how they should celebrate, that Ryan finally reacted.

"And what about Nick?"

"Ah, what do you mean?" Greg asked, stepping back.

Ryan turned, rested his hand on Greg's shoulder, then squeezed.

Greg dropped his shoulder and twisted away, saying, "Ow!"

"He hurt you. Again. Is that what you like? Is that what you're actually looking for?" Ryan was aware that his voice had dropped in register again, that he was advancing on Greg with fists clenched and gut coiled. He'd played that scene before. It wasn't really for him, it didn't fulfill any need of his. Power, control, sure, those he could do. Liked to, in fact. And he could play rough.

But actual pain?

Greg was backing away, shaking his head. "No. He didn't."

Ryan was reaching for his shoulder when Greg took another step back.

"Okay, maybe he did, but it wasn't intentional. He didn't mean to do it."

Ryan skidded to a halt at that. "Greg, listen to yourself. You do know what you sound like, right?" Ryan had only answered a few domestic violence calls, but they'd never settled well in his gut.

"Hey. What's going on guys?"

Ryan shifted his gaze from Greg to Nick.

"Nothing. Nothing's going on," Greg said.

Greg's nervous smile was back, and that more than anything fueled Ryan's ire.

"You hurt him."

Before Nick could respond, Horatio stuck his head in the lab. "Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

"No sir," Nick and Ryan said simultaneously.

"Fine. Then I suggest you collect your kits and come along. We've got a new scene to process."

Ryan turned and stripped off his lab coat as he reached for his kit.

"And gentlemen, whatever _is_ going on needs to be put on hold until this is over. Am I making myself clear?"

Of course. The work came first.

#

Greg didn't understand what was so funny about Calleigh calling shotgun on the ride to the crime scene, but both Horatio and Ryan at least cracked a smile when she did.

Normally, Greg would have been bouncing and asking a million questions about the ride. He'd never been in a Hummer before. But he was afraid to break the silence that held the three of them in the backseat. At least he was able to put himself in the middle, between Ryan and Nick. That way they wouldn't kill each other, at least not on the ride over. And they probably wouldn't do anything to jeopardize a crime scene. Afterward? Greg wasn't taking any bets.

However, when they reached the scene, it no longer seemed to matter. Professionalism dialed up to eleven when they saw the bloodied room.

"Abattoir" hardly seemed adequate.

After eighteen long hours of processing, Horatio shooed them all away, telling them to take a break for half a day before coming back.

That Ryan volunteered his place as a crash pad for Greg didn't surprise him. However, it took a few moments before he got it through his sleep-deprived skull that Ryan didn't mean just him. He'd invited Nick as well.

And Nick had accepted.

#

Ryan knew his reasons for inviting them both over were far from noble. He could have fooled himself and said that he was just looking out for Greg, making sure that Nick didn't hurt him again. And it wasn't just because of this, this, _thing_ between the three of them had yet to be settled.

No, he just wanted to maximize his time with Greg. Even if it meant bringing Nick along.

By the time they reached his apartment, Greg was swaying with exhaustion, barely able to stand. Ryan wasn't in much better shape, and he doubted Nick was either. But they both seemed to be handling it better. He wondered if it came from some of the cop training he and Nick had.

He'd watched Nick process the scene, had been impressed by the man's professionalism, as well as his knowledge. He was good at his job, no doubt about it. He didn't see the details Ryan did, but then again, there were few people who could.

Greg had been good as well, still learning the ropes like Ryan, but eager to learn -- and to please.

None of them had been able to eat after the scene, so they went straight to Ryan's place. Once there, though, they all stood, somewhat frozen, in Ryan's living room.

"Shit," Ryan finally said. He just hadn't thought this through. Was he supposed to go to bed with Greg, and leave Nick here out on the couch? Or play the martyr, and let Greg and Nick have his bed while he crashed out here?

The same thoughts seemed to be occurring to Greg and Nick.

"I'll sleep here," Nick volunteered before Ryan could say anything else.

Ryan looked between Greg and Nick. He wasn't sure why Nick was doing the noble thing, and a part of him was really happy about it, tempted to take him up on his offer.

The rest of him, though, had been raised better.

"I can crash--"

"No," Greg said, interrupting him. He stepped in front of the pair of them, then turned, so he could see both of them. "I, for one, am a selfish bastard. And so you're both coming with me to the bedroom. Now." Greg ended with arms akimbo, eyes moving restlessly from one man to the other, looking completely serious.

Ryan looked first at Greg, then at Nick. Nick was obviously trying to keep a straight face, but if the way he was biting his lip was any indication, he was well on the way to losing it.

" _Now,_ misters," Greg said.

Nick snorted, then chuckled, then started laughing out loud. Ryan joined in, the stress and the tension from the last few days seeking the only outlet available. There wasn't anything funny about the situation, not even remotely so. But it was either that, or cry for all the victims they hadn't been able to save.

Greg continued to stare at them as if they were nuts.

"He's not laughing," Ryan commented as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"I don't believe that's a problem. He is ticklish, you know."

Ryan grinned. "Oh, I know."

Greg turned and fled.

After another moment of just standing and staring at each other, Ryan held out his hand to Nick. Nick solemnly shook it.

They weren't friends. Ryan wasn't sure if they ever would be. But maybe they weren't enemies, at least for the next few hours.

It was surprisingly easy to strip down to boxers and crawl onto the far side of the bed. Greg lay in the middle, already asleep. Nick crept onto the other side.

After a minute, Ryan got up and turned down the AC, as well as set the alarm. Three bodies were going to produce a lot of heat, even if they all they were doing was sleeping.

#

Ryan hit the off button on his alarm without really waking up. His front was toasty, warm, while his back was a bit chilled. It took him a moment to figure out that he held Greg in his arms, their legs entangled. He kissed the soft skin his lips rested against, luxuriated in the sigh Greg gave him in return.

But something was off. A hand -- too large of a hand -- was lazily tracing a line from his hip, down his flank toward his knee and back again. There seemed to be too many feet mixed up with his. And though he welcomed Greg's intoxicating scent, there was another thread running through it, something deeper with a hint of spice.

Nick.

Ryan made himself open his eyes. Both Greg and Nick were looking at him. He cleared his throat.

"Morning," he said.

"Hey," Greg said. Something unspoken passed between Greg and Nick, because Nick suddenly moved his hand from Ryan's hip to the small of his back, pulling Ryan closer to Greg.

Greg, who just closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and waited.

With slow deliberation, Ryan closed the space between them, watching Nick until he got too close. Nick, who seemed to be okay with this, who watched it all with a half-smile and dark eyes, whose hand on Ryan's back pulled him in tighter when his and Greg's lips touched. Ryan wanted to keep the kiss short, businesslike, but Greg wasn't having anything to do with that. And neither was Nick, pulling him so close. So Ryan went with it, letting Greg kiss him and returning Greg's kiss.

The first thing Ryan did when he pulled back was to look at Nick again. He couldn't read what was going on with the other man, but he decided to take a chance. Using the same slow movements, he leaned in toward Nick, lips first. After a moment of hesitation, Nick leaned in as well, meeting him halfway.

Intellectually, Ryan understood the appeal of Nick. He was kind of cute, though he wasn't really Ryan's type. He was smart, good at his job, and any kind of competence could be considered sexy. He had that twang, which he knew some people found attractive. He also had an innocence, an "aw, shucks ma'am" quality that some people would find irresistible, whether to emulate or break.

But it wasn't until he was kissing Nick, feeling those full, soft lips under his, tasting spice and sunny Texas days, having that over-warm hand slide down from his back to cup his butt, did it all suddenly come together and gel into _Nick_ \-- a very attractive package indeed.

"Wow. You two look hot together," Greg commented as they broke apart.

Now, Ryan didn't believe in telepathy. But he suddenly knew, _knew,_ what Nick was thinking, what he wanted to do with Greg, to Greg. When Nick looked at him and winked, Ryan was sure he was right.

But then again, he hadn't believed in love at first sight either, until he'd met Greg.

So he leaned in for another long, slow, hot, _wet_ kiss, using every trick he'd ever learned, hoping to impress Nick as much as he was being impressed. He let himself touch Nick for the first time, plucking at his nipples lightly, then harder. When Nick responded to the heavier touch, Ryan let himself consider for the first time that maybe Nick actually hadn't meant to hurt Greg -- maybe he just liked it a bit rougher.

Ryan could work with that.

He ignored Greg's whining, as did Nick, though Ryan could feel the start of a smile on Nick's lips as he kissed him. They pulled apart and just looked at each other.

Nick was . . . beautiful, Ryan decided. He'd been willing to bed his enemy for Greg's sake, but maybe Nick didn't have to be his enemy. Nick reached up and cupped Ryan's cheek, held his face for a silent count of three.

Then they turned and descended on Greg.

#

Greg had been feeling very pleased with himself. Operation "Get Nick Jealous" had been a success. They still had shit to deal with back in Vegas -- figure out what the hell they meant to each other and all that messy stuff. But he'd gotten Nick over the hump and finally into a bed and that was good.

He'd also found this other really sweet, really cute, extremely talented guy who he was already halfway in love with. He wasn't going to let himself worry about how to get him to Vegas. They would make something work, because he wasn't about to lose Ryan either.  
 Then he'd managed to successfully initiate operation "Get everyone together." Only he seemed to have done that last part a little too well, given the way that Ryan and Nick were going at it.

But it was still hot as hell to watch.

Though Ryan was physically smaller than Nick, less broad, he still seemed to dominate the kiss, taking control and leading. And Nick seemed to like that. A lot.

When they broke apart and descended on Greg, he realized that between the pair of them, somehow, they'd come up with a new plan; operation "Drive Greg insane through over stimulation and delayed orgasm." Which, as plans went, wasn't all bad.

Except that they were tag-teaming him when it came to exploring his skin, exploiting all his erogenous zones except the most obvious one, that is, his cock. As well as driving him insane.

He'd never had anyone pay that much attention to his feet before. It was interesting to learn that someone sucking on his toes had about the same effect as someone sucking on his fingers, namely, that he wanted them to stop and start sucking on other parts of his anatomy. Immediately. But Ryan just laughed at Greg's moaned requests and pulled another toe into his mouth. Nick kept nuzzling his side, kissing and licking and nibbling on that sensitive juncture between hip and rib and tweaking his nipples and refusing to do anything else. And who knew, well, except Ryan of course, that there was a line, just above his ankle on the inside of his leg that could just about make his hair stand on end?

As Ryan kissed and licked his way up Greg's legs, drew closer and closer to Greg's cock, of course, it was time to switch again. Because it wasn't just Nick who had telepathy. No, he seemed to share it with Ryan and the pair of them had decided to take advantage of it.

And, okay, maybe it was to Greg's advantage too.

Now Nick was kneeling down between Greg's legs and sucking in one, then the other of Greg's balls and Ryan had moved up. Ryan with the hot mouth and ambidextrous tongue and _Jesus fuck_ when did the inside of his wrist get so sensitive? Greg couldn't decide if he was moaning, groaning, whimpering, or just speaking in tongues by the time Ryan had reached his shoulder and Nick was fingering his ass and licking at the base of his cock but never taking him in, never sucking him down.

Which meant, of course, that it was time to stop again. Ryan laid down on one side of Greg, and Nick slid up. They pet him, let him come down, and then Ryan started speaking in that sex-deepened voice of his.

"What do you want to do Greg? Do you want me to hold you, hold you open while Nick fucks you?"

Where did all the air go? Greg was certain it had all just been sucked out of the room and the AC had just conked out and the images in his head were going to be permanently baked there by the sudden heat.

"Or do you want to be a Greg-wich? You want to fuck me while Nick fucks you? Or maybe you want to be taken from both ends, mouth and ass."

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. "Please, please, please, please," Greg found himself saying, not sure what else to say, where else to go. Couldn't they do all of it? Then do it again?

Nick's chuckling laugh brought him back out of his daze. A little. "Gonna have to decide Greggo. What's it going to be?"

He wished he'd had even a little of that telepathy going when Ryan and Nick looked at each other. At first, he thought they were going to decide for him. But no, they were going to entertain him, kiss and lick and suck at each other as if the heat was _finally_ getting to them as well.

Bastards. Both of them. As if that made it any easier to decide.

#

In the end it was Greg on his hands and knees, sucking off Ryan while Nick pounded into him. Though Ryan and Nick had come a long way, they still needed that barrier of Greg between them. Ryan found he was more turned on by watching Nick and Greg than he'd imaged he'd be. And he liked the way Nick's eyes darkened when Greg took him into his mouth. They were still going to have to work on the rough thing, but Ryan was sure that he could get Nick under control.

That was, if he was ever going to see them again.

That thought made Ryan twitch, uncomfortably. Then he ruthlessly suppressed the idea. He wasn't going to think about it, not with both of them still in his bed, still recovering. They needed to get going or they were going to be late.

Still, he couldn't help but sigh. Somehow he'd ended up in the middle, Greg sprawled across his chest and Nick tucked in behind his back.

It was Nick who responded to his twitching and sighs. "You do know that our lab is hiring, right? That we're looking for one or two more CSIs?"

7:53 A.M.

Ryan's life was never going to be the same.

And he found comfort in that.

{end}


End file.
